


Next Time

by nickelmd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little angst, A little pining, But mostly fluff, First Time, M/M, set in season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd/pseuds/nickelmd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas finally come out of the closet together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

“Cas, what the hell man, can’t you just go all invisible boy out there?” Dean hisses through clenched teeth. There’s a hanger poking his ear and he’s trying to shuffle his feet around to push the crap out from under his feet. All of this would be easier without a fully grown angel stuffed into the closet with him. Cas stands there, cool as a cucumber, as fucking usual, as if he’s not standing on a sweater or being hemmed in by a line of pastel oxfords. 

“No. I couldn’t go ‘all invisible boy,’ that seems to be something I can no longer do,” Cas replies simply. 

“Invisibility isn’t part of Grace 2.0, huh?” Cas squints at him and sighs, turning his head and peering out the slats in the closet door. He doesn’t get Dean’s joke, but looks resigned to it, seemingly less willing to ask for clarification now that he’s been human and back again. “Ok, look man, I’m sorry, but this is fucking uncomfortable. Two big dudes don’t fit in this space. Find your own place to hide.”

The look Cas levels at him has him involuntarily flinching. “Are you suggesting I walk out into this bedroom and look for somewhere else to hide, when the owner of this home is clearly in the house right now? Because you are...uncomfortable? Dean, I have watched you sleep in the driver’s seat of the Impala, you know how to deal with being uncomfortable.”

Dean rubs his hand through his hair and down his face, knocking some hangers together and making more noise than is prudent in the situation. “That’s different. This is…” Dean whispers, gesturing helplessly between them, “...close, dude.” 

Cas leans in closer, “Deal with it. Quietly.”

Cas stays tucked in closer to Dean, but turns his head again to look into the room beyond. Dean squeezes his eyes closed and tilts his head back. Cas is right. He’s being ridiculous. But he’s also half hard in his jeans just from the thought of Cas pressing up closer, a fact he’d very much like to keep Cas from noticing. Cas may have had sex when he was human, even enjoyed it, at least before the being stabbed to death part, but now that he’s angeled up again, it’s hard to imagine Cas has given much more thought to that particular human pleasure. 

It’s not Cas’ fault that ever since he’d told Dean that he’d had sex, Dean can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not like Dean hadn’t thought about it before. He could admit his relationship with Cas was intense in a way that went beyond a normal friendship. It was a particular flavor of intensity that Dean had previously only experienced during sex. So, feeling that push and pull in every interaction with Cas was confusing and occasionally upsetting, but before Cas became human it was easy to dismiss it as a weird angel thing and not think past that. 

Now though...it was different. His mind more frequently wandered to the specifics of Cas as a sexual being. He thought Cas getting some angel mojo back would help him shut those thoughts out and everything would go back to normal. Unfortunately, instead of casting Cas back in a non-sexual light, it just meant that instead of fantasies of a human and willing Cas, he had fantasies of being epically manhandled by a grumpy angel. Cas’ current glower wasn’t really slowing things down.

Cas starts to look like he’s going to lean in closer and tell Dean he’s being ridiculous again, but the situation in Dean’s pants is getting pretty serious, so he puts one hand on Cas’ chest to hold him back. Cas looks down at Dean’s hand, surprised. “Cas, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Dean says, proud of how sure he sounds. 

Cas looks up at him then, his face just inches away, and Dean sucks in a breath before he can stop himself. Cas looks weirdly thoughtful in the light filtering in through the slats. Dean doesn’t have time to wonder why before he feels Cas’ hand brush lightly against his pants and Cas’ mouth is against his ear. “Are you sure you’re fine, Dean?”

In his mind he’s brushing it off and making a joke about the hot chick in the picture frame on the dresser, but his body has different ideas. He’s suddenly achingly hard and what was supposed to be a put-upon sigh comes out as a broken moan. Cas reacts to the sound so fast that Dean thinks he must be using his angel reflexes. Dean finds himself pressed into Cas, their bodies lined up and touching from toes to shoulders. Cas’ arms are wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly. Cas’ face is buried in the crook between his shoulder and his neck. He’s not kissing him, but it’s a near thing. Dean can feel Cas breathing him in.

Dean feels dizzy and a little shocked. What has gotten into Cas? The part of his brain that’s still working is trying valiantly to shift his hips away from Cas before Cas can identify the source of his distress. Cas, never quite as oblivious as Dean would like to believe, notices his movements. “Dean, stop,” Cas punctuates his words by moving his hands down to Dean’s ass and pulling him flush against him. Dean’s brain short circuits at the pressure. His hips are moving again, but with no thoughts of escape this time. It only takes a few short stutters of his hips to realize Cas is impressively on board with the situation.

That’s enough to push Dean right through the giant DO NOT ENTER sign that normally flashes before his eyes every time he thinks of Cas. One hand is in Cas’ hair and Dean’s lips are pressed to his jaw and he’s trying to pull Cas closer with the arm he’s slung around his back, but his brain is working just enough to hear the click of the bedroom door. Cas and Dean both freeze, reality making an awkward reappearance. Dean remembers, finally, that they’re in this closet because they’d heard someone enter the house downstairs. They hear the heavy footfalls of someone entering the room. Dean peers through the slats and sees the outline of a tall man with broad shoulders. Wait...Dean stiffens suddenly, pushes open the door and steps out, “Sam!?”

“Dean? What the hell, man?” Sam looks him up and down, eyes widening, “Cas?” Dean follows Sam’s gaze back to Cas stepping out of the closet. Dean barely suppresses a groan. Cas looks legitimately fucked. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is even more of a disaster than usual, and his shirt is half untucked. Dean can’t actually remember getting that far, but the evidence is before his eyes. Dean starts to smile before he realizes he probably looks no better and Sam’s not stupid.

“Damn it, Sammy, we thought you were the owner coming home early.”

“That’s why you two were in the closet, mak-” Sam starts, but Dean interrupts, “Yeah, but anyway, Cas and I have searched the house. No hex bags in sight. So. Awesome. Job done. You probably have a lot of research to do right now, right? We’ll meet you for dinner at that burger joint by the hotel. I mean, I will, I don’t know what Cas’ is doing, right? I mean, I wouldn’t know that. I mean, you should come, Cas, but you know, whatever. Anyway, Cas and I have had a long day and there was this thing Cas asked about that I was going to show him back at the hotel before I take a nap and Cas, you know, does whatever he does. Right Cas?”

Sam and Cas are both staring at Dean like he’s grown a second head, but Cas shakes himself slightly and says, “Yes. That thing. It sounds very interesting. I definitely want to...see it. I’ll come with you.” Which just leaves Sam standing with his mouth open, watching them leave. 

Dean’s about to congratulate himself on getting out of there without too much embarrassment when Sam calls out after them, “For the love of all that is holy, get a second room!”

**

The drive to the hotel is quiet. Dean’s all jangled nerves and confused arousal. Cas just sits shotgun, looking out the window, calm as fuck. Dean’s just about convinced himself he imagined the whole thing when Cas looks at him seriously and says, “It feels like you’re driving abnormally slowly. Aren’t you allowed to go faster on these roads?” Dean glances down to see he’s already going 45mph down a residential street and laughs. He speeds up, just a titch, a tiny bit of his trepidation falling away. 

Dean parks the Impala at the hotel and turns off the engine. Now that they’re here he wonders if Cas really knows what he wants. One roll in the hay with a homicidal reaper doesn’t exactly make you an expert on sex. Dean’s been thinking about this a long time. He knows what he wants, but Cas? Cas has been through a lot in the last few months and Dean shouldn’t be taking advantage. “Cas,” Dean starts, looking over to Cas in the passenger seat, “I-”

“Dean Winchester,” Cas stops him from continuing, “if you try to talk me out of this for my own good I will smite you into next week. We are getting out of this car right now and I am going to carnally worship every inch of your body.” Dean watches helplessly as Cas opens the door and steps out. He thinks he should feel insulted, but all he feels is hot and shaky. He shouldn’t be surprised, Cas has always known how to hit all his buttons.

Dean catches up with him and Cas has already mojoed the door open. Cas steps in and Dean follows behind, closing the door and locking it. The room is simple. The beds have been made up and the only obvious evidence that Dean’s been staying here is the half empty bottle of whiskey. He grimaces a little at the bottle and looks at Cas. Cas is taking off his trench coat. It strikes Dean that he’s never seen him do that before. It’s such a human gesture. For a moment Dean is overwhelmed with everything he feels for Cas. He has a little space for regret, that he’s waited this long to show Cas how he feels. The regret is there, but mostly there’s only the thought that he’s got him here now, and he never has to stop showing him.

Cas turns from where he’s laid his coat over the chair. Dean walks over to him, smiling. The top three buttons of Cas’ shirt are already undone. Dean brings his hands up to Cas’ chest and starts working on the remaining buttons. Cas watches Dean’s fingers work methodically down the shirt, keeping his hands at his sides, but flexing his fingers impatiently. Cas isn’t wearing an undershirt, so Dean’s work unveils a tantalizing hint at Cas’ chest and Dean has to force himself to go slow. When the last button is open, he slides his palms under his shirt at the shoulders, pushing up and back taking the shirt with him down Cas’ arms. 

As soon as he’s free of his shirt Cas moves like lightning. Before he knows what has happened Dean has 6 feet of angel pressed to his front and peeling, green hotel wallpaper pressed against his back. Dean’s trying to get his hands on every inch of available skin, but Cas is pressed up hard against him and trying to remove his shirt at the same time. Cas finally pulls back enough to yank off Dean’s top layer. As soon as Cas angrily throws the shirt across the room, Dean takes the opportunity to shuck off his undershirt and drop it nearby. Cas pauses and says, “I wanted to do that.”

“Really? You didn’t look like you were having that much fun with the flannel.” Dean replies teasingly, leaning in for a kiss. 

“Just because you’re eager to get the present, doesn’t mean you don’t want to unwrap the package, Dean,” Cas says, brow furrowing in such a serious way that Dean can’t help but laugh, “Next time, ok, I promise.” 

At that Cas is back against him, sucking at his neck and almost growling, “Next time.” He licks a long stripe up Dean’s neck to ear, biting Dean’s earlobe before repeating in his ear, “Next time.” Dean’s head falls back and his hips push forward involuntarily at the words and he knows with aching clarity that he is not going to last long. When Cas feels Dean slide against him he lets out a noise so obscene that Dean almost comes right then.

Dean feels Cas shift against him, encouraging Dean to wrap his legs around his waist, and Dean has a sudden fear that Cas has actually been listening in on his fantasies, because, holy shit, Cas fucking him against the wall was definitely one of them. Sure they still have their pants on, but it feels good, amazing even. He can feel Cas sucking hard on his neck and he wonders if Cas knows about hickeys when he suddenly feels teeth and Cas bites down almost painfully hard. Dean feels his whole body tighten, an unexpected orgasm ricocheting through his body, He’d try to feel embarrassed, but Cas is still moving against him shouting, “Fuck, Dean, fuck, fuck,” and he can’t be bothered to care about anything at all except watching Cas’ face as he comes.

They slide to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Dean feels more relaxed than he has in years, but Cas is shaking. Dean slides his hand up to Cas’ cheek, “Hey, Cas, man, what’s wrong? It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Cas looks up sharply, grabbing Dean’s face in his hands and kissing him hard and possessive. He pulls away leaving Dean’s head spinning a little and his dick trying in vain to respond.

“Next time?” Cas asks seriously.

“And the next,” Dean replies pulling Cas tightly to his chest and rubbing his face in his hair.

**

Sam sees the Impala parked a few doors down from the room and breathes a sigh of relief. Who knows what’s going on with the those two, but Sam’s walked into enough of Dean’s one night stands to know he’s not interested in walking in on the consummation of five years of sexual tension.

Sam opens the door and throws his bag into the chair before looking up and seeing that his bed isn’t empty. Cas is shirtless, laying in his bed and looking at Sam with something like panic in his eyes. Dean though, is worse. He’s curled up against Cas, one arm and one leg holding him tightly. His head is laying on Cas’ chest and his eyes are closed. He looks...young...and peaceful. Sam runs his hand through his hair as all his anger drains away. Sam turns back to get his bag and heads toward the door, “Next time get a fucking second room, Cas.”

Cas looks solemn as he nods, “Next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to @rartastic for actually making me add the smut at the end. I did it, and I didn't die. Hooray!


End file.
